Bullpen Gospels: Deep down, you know it’s true

Friday

May 23, 2008 at 12:01 AMMay 23, 2008 at 10:22 PM

“Don’t change your approach. Don’t change your character. That’s how you let this beat you. This stuff happens to everyone. It’s part of the game.” He says it as if he’s seen it happen a thousand times before.

Dirk Hayhurst

“Don’t change your approach. Don’t change your character. That’s how you let this beat you. This stuff happens to everyone. It’s part of the game.”

He says it as if he’s seen it happen a thousand times before. He has been playing long enough to know failure’s cold bite, the way it goes down like bad medicine. The danger of reacting to it the wrong way.

I used to carry my bad outings with me off the field. I carried the scowl around for days. My teammates became weary of me ambushing them with selfish rants about my failures, my luck, myself. What were they going to say? They had their own lives to worry about. They wanted me to succeed just so they didn’t have to hear me whine. I was a cancer, a cloud of negative emotion looking for someone to pour on. I drove people away.

I let my team know I was beat, and I was so convincing they’d believe me. Soon, we were both beat. The losses began to add up. Another lesson learned the hard way.

“Handling failure is a fine art. It’s priceless. It’s the one thing you can do well and be loved by everyone for. It takes a ton of strength and a commitment and shows a great deal of character. Trouble is, like anything else, you have to practice at it to get good.”

Isn’t that the truth. You would think after a lifetime of ball, failing would be easier to bear. I still want to toss water coolers when I blow the lead. I don’t, but I want to. The emotion is in me, but the control is there now, tempered by seasons of ups and downs. Instead, and with much effort, I walk into the dugout, place my glove down like a teacup and try to breathe like a yoga instructor.

“Some never recover from those moments. They talk so bad to themselves they never come back. They throw out a whole career of hard work believing the negative stuff they pump into their own head. Can you believe that?”

I can. Anything can happen in this game. Even long stretches of defeat, when you wonder if you can ever be successful again. It makes you afraid, like everything you do will go bad. You find yourself thinking about the past when you should be focusing on the present. One bad outing becomes two. Two becomes three. Soon, failure is all you know. It dominates your mind. You begin to believe.

“It’s a long season, and this game is built around a consistent approach. One bad day doesn’t break you unless you let it. It’s hard when you’re mad, but stop and tell yourself you’re all right. Think positive. Be hungry for the next chance to prove yourself. After all, it’s just baseball.”

It is just baseball, but it’s also your life’s ambition. Each setback is monumental, hard to dissect when your brain is full of frustration.

The best players know setbacks are part of it. They have short memories for defeat and sharp eyes for the positive. They pick themselves up with record speed and are back on track for the success they believe in. They are the ones teams rally around. They do not change nor crumble.

“All right Dirk, it’s time to quite whispering to yourself. Get up and be strong. You’re going to pitch again. You have to be positive. It’s all you can be. You did a lot of good things today, and you still have good things to left to do.”

I finish my conversation with myself, crush the water cup in my hand and toss it across the already littered dugout floor. I walk to the fence and lean over. It’s our turn to hit. I don’t want to cheer just yet, so I clap instead. I have a team to support. We have a lead to get back.

Dirk Hayhurst is a 1999 Canton (Ohio) South High School graduate and former Kent State University standout assigned to the San Diego Padres Class AAA affiliate Portland Beavers. Read his Misadventures of a Minor League Nobody blog at: www.cantonrep.com/blogs